Something To Believe In
by rushtogether
Summary: Will and Elizabeth go through a journey of lies and betrayal, but also - hope.


_Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean does not belong to me. sniffles I'll get over it._

_A/N: This took me forever, don't ask why. I have to thank my awesome beta Setarip for being patient! Aha. Lerf you ;) Also lateBloomer04 and Blackiwi for help and encouragement. Heh. _

**Three**** Times Hope**

**Chapter 1: One Flare**

_The Grand essentials of happiness are: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for._– Allan. K. Chalmers.

It was a particularly foggy night – the stars were veiled, almost hidden trough the thick mist. One light, one ever flickering light, shone over the otherwise dark water – it came from a tiny hut, situated a few meters over the river. Many tales were told of the woman who lived there; one day she would rise and become the monster she once were, holding powers too terrible to imagine.

Oh, she was a fearsome thing to behold – a long, frayed dress clinging to her body, black painted teeth and an endless mess of black curls and dreadlocks.

She lived in the hut alone, and if she ever got visitors, it was always people running from the law, desperately seeking her advice. Tonight, her hut was awfully cramped and the floor would croak with every movement, alerting the occupants that they were too much to carry.

However, no one in the room seemed to notice, as they were all involved in a grave discussion.

"…I take it none of you have the guts to do it, then?" Barbossa said in a threatening tone, his expression dangerous.

Silence.

"'Tis jus…'Tis such a dangerous task, sir, an…" The young lanky man with the wooden eye, Ragetti, spoke up, eyeing the old pirate nervously. He was, if possible, an even more frightening sight now.

The captain growled in annoyance, and shifted his gaze towards a figure who had remained silent through their discussion, except for a few nods whenever her opinion was needed.

"Miss Turner," Elizabeth hissed in exasperation at his words, but was surprised to hear her fiancée doing the same.

"You shall come with me to Singapore and there will be no arguing at that point."

Barbossa looked to his right, where William Turner, the one person he believed_ would _argue, stood. To the captain's great surprise, no words were spoken, the 'whelp' didn't even move.

Will was utterly, devastatingly, confused. Mere hours before, he had actually _felt hope;_perhaps there was a possibility that he could save his father with the _Black Pearl, _perhaps he could "capture the devil", as the voodoo witch had said. Of course, Jack had other plans, and so, the captain had followed his ship to Davy Jones' Locker. And, it wasn't Jack's death that bothered him. It was the dreadful scene he had witnessed; his one and only love kissing someone else. _Jack Sparrow._

What had caused this? Had Elizabeth loved Jack all along, or had she developed feelings for him?

And what about Jack? Will knew how he hadacted around women – and the young man highly doubted that Jack could stay true to Elizabeth, if he had feelings for her, and it disturbed Will deeply.

Because, anyway you sliced it, Will would always put her happiness first.

His dark thoughts were viciously interrupted by Captain Barbossa's raspy voice.

"We cannot travel together. It would seem suspicious, it would. Someone must get the charts, and he must go alone." His eyes rested on Will as he uttered the last words, and the gesture was not lost on Elizabeth Swann. Not only did she had to deal with guilt for killing Jack, but also the fact that she had not exchanged a word with her fiancé since they had arrived at Tia's hut.

Would he really set out on such a dangerous mission without saying a word to her, not even a farewell? She could not figure out why he'd been so distant of late, but the truth she'd been avoiding ever since he asked her about Jack's whereabouts kept pounding in the back of her mind. He had spoken to her as if they were strangers, possibly even enemies, and she had replied with the same coldness – and regretted it afterwards. What had he done to deserve such behaviour? She wanted to apologize, to tell him the truth, but with every minute her courage failed her.

On the other hand, what was there to say? She did not know how to fix it, and neither did she have the strength to do so. Oh, how she longed to know what he was thinking, what was covered under his disheartened mask. What could he possibly hide from her? The days when she would ask him what was on his mind, and he would always answer you´ seemed like a faraway dream, almost as if they had descended in the depths along with the _Black Pearl._

She reminded herself that Will had not volunteered to go get the charts, and she prayed he would not do so. Elizabeth knew well that the task would undoubtedly jeopardize Will's life.

She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened as she reminisced the night before.

He'd retired for the night shortly after Barbossa's surprising entrance, and she had figured he was probably tired and most likely as shocked as she was. He'd looked at her once last time before he had crept painstakingly up the stairs, flinching with every step. In those eyes, those usually warm brown orbs, she had seen so much more than fatigue and disbelief. He was wounded, heartbroken, and she did not dare ask herself why.

For a short while, she just sat there, eyes fixed on the spot where her fiancé had just ascended. In her heart, she knew she had to talk to him, give him an explanation, and say sorry. Yesterday, she had needed him so badly, but as she watched him behind the beaded curtain that night, playing with an absolutely hideous trinket, she had seen the deep-red gashes on his back. And she had fled. From what? She didn't know. But that night, she couldn't bear talking to him, a broken man, for she feared what he would do if she told him the truth. Instead, she chose to wallow in her self-pity and guilt, crying until the first stream of daylight shone trough the various cracks in the shed.

And now, another day had gone by, and Elizabeth was still wondering, still contemplating everything. Everything that had happened since she had hesitantly moved closer to Jack Sparrow and – she flinched at the thought that had once appeared somewhat tempting to her – kissed him. From that point, everything had gone wrong.

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Once again, Will retired for bed early when the "meeting" was over, and the pirates had yet to figure out who would go get the charts. Will knew that Barbossa wanted him to do it, as he was the one who seemed most fit for the task, but then again, Barbossa hadn't seen those cuts.

But, he knew he wasn't holding back because of a few scars. What had happened on the_ Dutchman_, what he'd experienced there, was nothing compared to the pain stinging his heart and mind. Will groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He could only hope to escape the real, harsh world for a little while…

"Will?" He turned quickly, surprised to hear _that_ voice behind him.

"Elizabeth." He said grimly, noticing how she was not looking directly at him and fiddling anxiously with the frays in her shirt.

"I…" she began, finally meeting his eyes, weariness shining trough them. "I wanted to see how you were" she half-whispered, her voice cracking. Was that the best she could come up with? Elizabeth stepped closer to him.

He didn't respond. He just looked at her disbelievingly, candlelight dancing in his orbs.

"Will?" She touched his arm lightly. "Please, say something."

"I'm fine" he answered, almost automatically, although his entire being protested the statement.

Then, a long silence followed. They both hesitated, both on the verge to break the stillness between them, until…

"Fine?" Elizabeth muttered softly. She attempted to smile, but then she remembered the last smile she'd seen. It had been an approving grin, rather impressed, and the man had whispered _pirate._

And now that man was dead.

Jack and Will were duelling for her mind, and now, just when Will was about to win and she was ready to tell him everything, Jack would strike and she'd be uncertain again. Would Will understand?

She was too afraid to get that question answered now.

"Yes, I'm fine" Will said, his voice stronger now. He also attempted to smile. It hurt.

"Will, please -"

"You should rest." He'd never spoken to her in such manner before, and she was about to answer, her fiery nature getting the best of her, when she entirely understood his words.

"Why not tell me to leave so you will have your much required rest," she hissed pitifully, her eyes leaving him and going further down, to the creaks in the filthy floor.

His answer was unexpected. "Because I care for you, and I'm asking you to rest" he said, and his voice was so soft it immediately transported her to the day he'd professed his love to her, in the presence of her father and fiancé, no less!

Her smile was genuine this time. His words alighted something in her, a flare of hope, an unspoken understanding between them. He would be there for her through this journey.

"Well then, you should rest too." She moved her lips to his ear, "Because I care for you as well."

And then she was gone.

He stood there, trying to fathom what had just occurred. Was there a chance she still loved him?

She had unknowingly lit a fire, a flare, a flame, in him. He was hopeful again, and he sensed a promise beneath her words – she would be there for him through this journey and they would work things out.

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Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours, and Will had not slept a wink, despite his exhaustion. Albeit he'd felt that Elizabeth had given him assurance, a hint that her feelings had not changed, he could not help wonder why she had kissed Jack.

Now, his hopefulness seemed foolish and naïve, but still soothing to his worried heart. He closed his eyes, turning his head into the thin pillow, and waiting for what was left of the night to take him.

It was a fruitless attempt. Will sighed. He knew all too well why he couldn't sleep. He had to find her, he had to ask her, and he had to know.

Praying not to wake the others, he left his room and scurried quickly towards the door to Elizabeth's room, which was open.

When did Elizabeth Swann ever take orders, he wondered, as he gazed at her bed: empty and unmade, her baldric and sword lying on the floor beside it. It annoyed him greatly, actually, that she wouldn't take his advice and rest.

Where then could she be? He stood completely still and listened. Did he hear voices? They came from below, he decided. One of them spoke in an eerie Jamaican accent – definitely Tia Dalma's. He walked further down the hall, towards the stairs.

"_How can I possibly tell him?__ It will only hurt him further."_

Will froze. Elizabeth's voice, her voice clearly illustrating how she felt. Elizabeth spoke again, this time more like the Elizabeth he knew and missed.

"_I'll be fine. When we find Jack, everything will be fine." _

He'd heard enough. The flare of hope that mere hours ago had been his small comfort was gone, and he wondered if it even had existed at all. He'd been foolish to hope.

Will turned slowly and headed for his room, shoulders slumped and head down. He felt strangely defeated and more tired than ever. However, he missed the last words uttered beneath him:

"_Tomorrow I'll talk to him. I promise."_

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The morning came and Elizabeth woke up, determined and ready. She had to talk to Will; she had to make him understand. She would never make it through this journey without him. First and foremost, she had to apologize.

The stairs croaked loudly as she descended them, and her eyes scanned the room quickly. No sign of Will. He hadn't been in his room either. And then she noticed. She noticed how the others avoided her gaze, how Gibbs shook his head and sighed. The voodoo witch was the only one paying attention to her, her eyes scorching Elizabeth, her black lips curved in a secret smile.

"Where's Will?" Elizabeth asked uneasily, breaking the unusual and awkward silence.

Once again, quiet.

Then, Barbossa came up beside her, almost shyly. She turned to face him slowly, her fear making her body tremble. Barbossa opened his mouth, showing his yellow teeth…

"He's gone for the charts, missy."

She turned to see Master Pintel, standing in the middle of the room, unfazed by Barbossa's angry gaze.

"Left this morning, he did. Didn't seem to 'appy!"

She couldn't believe it. He had left, without a word, destroying all her dreams of a journey together, one where there were no secrets.

But now, whatever hope she had before, was gone.

**I hope you liked the first chapter, and I'd love some ideas for the next two! Much lerf to my HtR buddies.**


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